Look Who's Stalking
Went down to hometown team Telford United's Bucks Head stand last night to watch Wolves Reserves take on their Newcastle counterparts. No, I don't know why either, really. Must have been an involuntary spasm. Bit like a sneeze, I guess. But anyway, it was bloody freezing and although it was only three quid to get in I was considering asking for my money back as there was an immense immovable structure obscuring my view of proceedings. But then I relaxed a bit when somebody told me that was Wolves full-back Oleg Luzhny.
There were a few 'big names' on show - that mythological beast Griffin (booked, predictably); O'Brien; Darren Ambrose; Lomano Lua Lua (tricky but ineffective) and Hugo Viana (who put in a shameful lack of application) for the Toon and the aforementioned Luzhny (swore a lot in a language no-one understood and gave the impression he had violent fantasies of mutilating his keeper); Joey Gudjonnsen (even the Icelander looked cold); ex-Charlton winger Shaun Newton (his pet name is 'Newts' apparently) and Kenny Miller (scored the only two goals of the game) for struggling Wolves. A great save from Wolves on-loan keeper Andy Marshall from Darren Ambrose notwithstanding, the most notable aspect of the game was Newcastle sub Richard Offiong skying a shot so high it knocked a bit of lettering off the stand during the half-time warm-ups.
According to the Newcastle site Steve Bruce was spotted lurking in the stands, and could only have been a few feet away from me by the sounds of things. If only I'd spotted the big wonky-nosed Blues boss I'd have told him not to be so shy and that he could have Dead Kenny's autograph anytime. Bless 'im.
Anyway, I've got a sore head that's not alcohol-related, so that's always worrying. Therefore, just enough time for some no messin' linkage (in other words, make up your own puns and lascivious remarks) -
Radio 1 DJ and budding Olympic athlete Nemone in pole-dancing shocker. Anyone want to send in a caption for this picture?
Neve Campbell in her most revealing photoshoot yet for FHM US. A case of airy Neve?
Paypal killed the wecam star. Jennicam has shut down, much to the dismay of Canadian fan Paul Brown who loftily opines: "In a sense I'd like to have maintained the surveillance for the rest of her life. . . . as a sociological experiment and a life-narrative art project". Yeah, that and the occasional glimpse of Jennifer's Ringley.
Japanese Mars mission abandoned.
Sarah's so boring since she gave up drinking but it doesn't stop her gossiping about Julian Casablancas and Regina Spektor officially being an item while Fabrizio Strokes and Drew Barrymore are apparently splitsville.
Closer to home, Vicky has gone up in the world and moved into The High Rise without telling me. She'd have gotten away with it too but for a comment over at that impending green-fingered groom Graybo's gaffe. Don't worry though, Vicky, the medication's kicking in now, and I haven't had any fantasies about being stuck on an Edinburgh nightbus with you for days now.
Best. Mugshot. Ever. Parallax View asks the question: Is George Clinton the illegitimate son of Whoopi Goldberg and Chewbacca?!
And finally, Brooke reveals that she 'fell in the Thames after Saturday's Scullers Head'. If I've told her once I've told her a million times to quit with those dang dangerous sex games before someone gets hurt!
But hold it, you didn't expect to get away without a bit of Mason and Dixon watch, did you? Today's update is sponsored by my old college mate Poss, the man who's been giving the internet beans since 1998. Poss advises me that even as Pynchon's biggest fan he found M&D heavy going, but still rates it better than 'Vineland'.
Pages 213-252 represent the heaviest going of the book so far, much plotting and intrigue further obscured by the stylised writing. Dixon has an encounter with a wizard who introduces him to a priest who tries to entice him into a bit of Jesuit espionage on his forthcoming trip to the States. Dixon is reluctant, particularly when he finds that his adopted religious persuasion would mean 'no fucking'. Predictably, they all end up down the pub to discuss it further, while there follows some musing on the notion that werewolf mythology stems from mothers' confused reactions to their sons' sprouting puberty (I'm not sure how this quite fits into the rest of the story but an interesting theory nonetheless). There's then a bit of backstory about Dixon before he meets up with Mason again ahead of their voyage. Over beers, they both get a bit gloomy and paranoid about their upcoming project as they're unsure whether it's reward or punishment, and a sense that they are pawns in a bigger game starts to overwhelm them. But a bit of fog and a brawl or two later, they head for their destiny across the Atlantic. To be continued...
Went down to hometown team Telford United's Bucks Head stand last night to watch Wolves Reserves take on their Newcastle counterparts. No, I don't know why either, really. Must have been an involuntary spasm. Bit like a sneeze, I guess. But anyway, it was bloody freezing and although it was only three quid to get in I was considering asking for my money back as there was an immense immovable structure obscuring my view of proceedings. But then I relaxed a bit when somebody told me that was Wolves full-back Oleg Luzhny.
There were a few 'big names' on show - that mythological beast Griffin (booked, predictably); O'Brien; Darren Ambrose; Lomano Lua Lua (tricky but ineffective) and Hugo Viana (who put in a shameful lack of application) for the Toon and the aforementioned Luzhny (swore a lot in a language no-one understood and gave the impression he had violent fantasies of mutilating his keeper); Joey Gudjonnsen (even the Icelander looked cold); ex-Charlton winger Shaun Newton (his pet name is 'Newts' apparently) and Kenny Miller (scored the only two goals of the game) for struggling Wolves. A great save from Wolves on-loan keeper Andy Marshall from Darren Ambrose notwithstanding, the most notable aspect of the game was Newcastle sub Richard Offiong skying a shot so high it knocked a bit of lettering off the stand during the half-time warm-ups.
According to the Newcastle site Steve Bruce was spotted lurking in the stands, and could only have been a few feet away from me by the sounds of things. If only I'd spotted the big wonky-nosed Blues boss I'd have told him not to be so shy and that he could have Dead Kenny's autograph anytime. Bless 'im.
Anyway, I've got a sore head that's not alcohol-related, so that's always worrying. Therefore, just enough time for some no messin' linkage (in other words, make up your own puns and lascivious remarks) -
Radio 1 DJ and budding Olympic athlete Nemone in pole-dancing shocker. Anyone want to send in a caption for this picture?
Neve Campbell in her most revealing photoshoot yet for FHM US. A case of airy Neve?
Paypal killed the wecam star. Jennicam has shut down, much to the dismay of Canadian fan Paul Brown who loftily opines: "In a sense I'd like to have maintained the surveillance for the rest of her life. . . . as a sociological experiment and a life-narrative art project". Yeah, that and the occasional glimpse of Jennifer's Ringley.
Japanese Mars mission abandoned.
Sarah's so boring since she gave up drinking but it doesn't stop her gossiping about Julian Casablancas and Regina Spektor officially being an item while Fabrizio Strokes and Drew Barrymore are apparently splitsville.
Closer to home, Vicky has gone up in the world and moved into The High Rise without telling me. She'd have gotten away with it too but for a comment over at that impending green-fingered groom Graybo's gaffe. Don't worry though, Vicky, the medication's kicking in now, and I haven't had any fantasies about being stuck on an Edinburgh nightbus with you for days now.
Best. Mugshot. Ever. Parallax View asks the question: Is George Clinton the illegitimate son of Whoopi Goldberg and Chewbacca?!
And finally, Brooke reveals that she 'fell in the Thames after Saturday's Scullers Head'. If I've told her once I've told her a million times to quit with those dang dangerous sex games before someone gets hurt!
But hold it, you didn't expect to get away without a bit of Mason and Dixon watch, did you? Today's update is sponsored by my old college mate Poss, the man who's been giving the internet beans since 1998. Poss advises me that even as Pynchon's biggest fan he found M&D heavy going, but still rates it better than 'Vineland'.
Pages 213-252 represent the heaviest going of the book so far, much plotting and intrigue further obscured by the stylised writing. Dixon has an encounter with a wizard who introduces him to a priest who tries to entice him into a bit of Jesuit espionage on his forthcoming trip to the States. Dixon is reluctant, particularly when he finds that his adopted religious persuasion would mean 'no fucking'. Predictably, they all end up down the pub to discuss it further, while there follows some musing on the notion that werewolf mythology stems from mothers' confused reactions to their sons' sprouting puberty (I'm not sure how this quite fits into the rest of the story but an interesting theory nonetheless). There's then a bit of backstory about Dixon before he meets up with Mason again ahead of their voyage. Over beers, they both get a bit gloomy and paranoid about their upcoming project as they're unsure whether it's reward or punishment, and a sense that they are pawns in a bigger game starts to overwhelm them. But a bit of fog and a brawl or two later, they head for their destiny across the Atlantic. To be continued...
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